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An hour later, a big broad shouldered Irishman who proved to be the pumper, came ambling along on a railroad velocipede. He looked at me for a minute, and after I had made myself known he grinned and said, "Well, I hopes as how ye will loike the place. Burke, the man who was here afore ye, got scared off by thramps, and I reckon he's not stopped runnin' yit." Fine introduction wasn't it?
"Be japers! comrayde, I'm afther thinkin' fwhat purty fools us hiv bin, to tak it afut this way, loike two thramps, whin wez moight ivery bit as wil hav been stroidin' a pair ov good pownies. We cowld a fitched a pair from the Fort wid all the aize in the wurld." "Yees, Petrick, certing ye ain't fer 'stray 'bout thet pertickler; we've been raither ungumptious."
"Don't sound heady enough for a 'Blow-Out," said the Colonel. "We'll sober up on slumgullion to-morrow." "Anyhow, it's mate I'm wishin' fur," sighed O'Flynn, subsiding among the tin-ware. "What's the good o' the little divvle and his thramps, if he can't bring home a burrud, or so much as the scut iv a rabbit furr the soup?"
But whin a man with long whiskers comes r-ridin' up th' r-road an' says: 'Jan Schmidt or Pat O'Toole or whativer his name is, ye're wanted at th' front, he goes home an' takes a rifle fr'm th' wall an' kisses his wife an' childher good-bye an' puts a bible in th' tails iv his coat an' a stovepipe hat on his head an' thramps away. An' his wife says: 'Good-bye, Jan.
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